


Experiments

by AmethystTribble



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: At the same time, Finwe considers his son, Gen, Sad and Sweet, and his scientific habits, does it count as character death if it's from the halls of mandos?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-24 15:16:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16177739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmethystTribble/pseuds/AmethystTribble
Summary: A short ficlet about Finwë and his genius child, starting when his son was small and vulnerable until he was not so innocent.





	Experiments

Finwë had long ago learned to fear the word, ‘experiment’.

At first, it was just cute how Fëanáro would pour water on hot stone just to see it evaporate or the times he would test the different sounds dining ware made when hit against each other. His father would ask what the little child was doing, and Fëanáro would look up bemusedly, as if he forgot anyone else was there with him. “Experiment,” he would chirp in his high tiny voice, a small smile spreading across his chubby face. And Finwë would laugh, because how did his little baby know such a big word?

Once though, Fëanáro’s watery and frightened plea of, “experiment,” broke Finwë’s heart. He’d caught his son hovering over his ailing mother’s body, rubbing some thyme scented liquid upon her face. He’d dragged Fëanáro out by his scruff, and yelled at the boy in the hall, barely pausing to listen to his explanation. But, “experiment” ripped the winds from Finwë’s sails, and he simply sent his son to his nursery with a defeated sigh. Miriel, for the first time in months, laughed when he told her, and Finwë didn’t have the strength to punish Fëanáro after that, he even repented his harsh treatment. It was truly harmless, after all, and still cute, in a sad way.

Then his son started to write his letters in ways that made his tutor upset. “Fëanáro,” Finwë had asked, his eyes blood-shot at the time and the bags under his eyes deep, “why would you not write properly? I know you can.”

Fëanáro, too pale and thin, simply shrugged his shoulders. “I wanted to experiment with making the letters easier to write,” he said, shifting his feet and wringing his hands. So Finwë sighed, because even if it wasn’t proper schooling, at least Fëanáro was interested in something about his lessons again. Since Miriel had left them, very little seemed to spark life in either father or son. Finwë could not take this away from him, not when his chest ached to finally hear of his baby’s little ‘experiments’ again. 

Fëanáro was sent back to his tutor without even a scolding, just a plea to keep his experiments out of lesson time. This lasted only until Fëanáro was confident in his letters and intellectual superiority, but by then Finwë had realized there was something incredible about his son. Never again did he discourage or punish Fëanáro’s experiments. But he did grow wary.

Because Fëanáro started pulling things pieces just to put them back together. He broke his toys to use as parts when he outgrew them, and tried to melt down vases in the fireplace. When bored, Fëanáro would pick at the seams of his clothes to see how the patterns were made. He’d make up words just to proudly explain what they meant, as if the concepts had always existed! 

Perhaps the most frightening offense was the time he absconded with Findis. Fëanáro had shown no interest in his younger sister, in fact he was outright disdainful at times, so when the baby disappeared from her nursery, no one thought to look with him. But as the palace tore itself to pieces looking for Findis, as Finwë felt his heart nearly beat out of his chest, as Indis fell into tears, his children were safely locked away in Fëanáro’s study. Hours later, Fëanáro came down to dinner holding his sister, utterly unaware of the chaos, and found no meal set and his father missing. It was the servants who informed Finwë and Indis that Fëanáro had Findis the entire time.

His explanation for his actions was a long-winded rambling about language and trying to understand whether speech was inherent in babes. He’d been quizzing Findis all afternoon, he claimed, trying to suss out what knowledge was taught and how the capabilities to learn differed between children and beast. All Finwë heard was ‘experiment’.

Fëanáro was punished for taking Findis without notice. It was the one and only time Indis had ever yelled at the boy.

As he grew older, Fëanáro’s explanations grew longer and more convoluted, but his justification for all odd behaviour boiled down to, ‘experiment’. He would ask every time, oh, Finwë would ask, of course, because that’s what supportive fathers did, but the reasoning was the same. 

If he missed a party or formal dinner? _I simply, I’m in the middle of creating a new…_

If he was late? _I was busy reading a book about the conductivity of copper…_

Why did he picked a fight with Lord Vorion? _I hypothesized that his argument would fall apart if…_

What was his thought process before taking a hammer to that one gift from Lady Sairë? _I wanted to see about the applications of the adhesive…_

Experiment.

In the months before the Silmarils were presented to him, Finwë had been hearing about ‘experiments’ quite a bit. Fëanáro forged a sword just to, “see if I could.” Finwë hadn’t dared even ask for an explanation as to why Fëanáro pointed a weapon at his brother. He feared he already knew the answer.

Staring up at Vairë’s tapestries in horror… Finwë wondered if this whole enterprise was an experiment. A test to see if Fëanáro, under his own strengths and within his limits, could conquer the Outer Lands as he so easily did everything else. An enterprise of self-assessment. 

And for the first time in his life… One of Fëanáro’s experiments had failed.

So, for that curious little babe, Finwë wept. Though at times exasperated, he had never once wanted to see Fëanáro’s experiments fail, even as they grew wilder and less harmless. He never wanted to corral his bright spirit.

Maybe he should have.

**Author's Note:**

> Why isn't there more Finwë and Feanor angst? I need my sad dysfunctional father and son. Bonus if it includes bby!Feanor.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Please leave kudos or comments if you liked it, and find this relationship as heartbreaking as I do.


End file.
